


Unwanted Vacations (Or when Merlin was tempted to let the idiots that made up Camelot’s king and knights fend for themselves in Middle Earth)

by twIInGemIInII



Category: Merlin (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, F/M, elf!Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twIInGemIInII/pseuds/twIInGemIInII
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin thought he could at least keep this one not-so-small secret away from everyone; after all, it’s not like it would really ever become relevant to them in this lifetime, right? Yeah, about that…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1/ Prolouge

“Oh no.” Ever since some woodworker had a breakthrough in the rather useless art of ship building in a land-locked kingdom, Camelot and her citizens had a rather eventful past years finding new lands (after discovering a shore they had not been previously aware of), both civilized and wild as the day the Earth was made. When they had first found out, there was an uproar of great excitement that had not yet ebbed away even after three years.

Normally, Merlin was a prime example of the kingdom’s excitement. He highly encouraged explorations and sometimes petitioned for a week off to join them. (Arthur never gave it to him, but that was besides the point.)

However, he had only briefly wondered if they would come across that land and decided not to worry, incorrectly. 

He had thought to himself that it was too far away and that some form of weird magic should protect it from wandering eyes, after all Albion was most definitely not the most technologically advanced land and no one else had ever found it before. 

Unfortunately for him, either sheer, dumb luck or the ever-present and annoying-as-hell hand of Destiny had granted the knowledge of Middle Earth’s existence freely. Sometimes he wanted to smack Destiny in its non-existent face. Or light it on fire. Either one would work for him.

However, as previously mentioned, it’s face was quite non-existent and thus neither of the options he had created in his on mind would ever happen. So choice C was being forced on him: to go with the master plan and shut up.

Which brought him to the present moment. “Why do we have to go again? Shouldn’t the king stay safe inside the kingdom, not venturing across seas to some unknown land where the locals are probably not so friendly?” 

The look Arthur sent Merlin would have made a dragon shut up. However Merlin was not a dragon, “And why me? I’m not a diplomat and I’m rather clumsy as you’ve pointed out!”

The warlock forged on, “Honestly, I’m a warlock, not a hunter or something. Do you really want to support me for months on end?” He flung his arms in the air for added dramatic flair that was completely and utterly unnecessary.

“Merlin, shut up,” Merlin pouted (if it would get him out of his, he would feel no shame) at his king “you can handle it just fine with a bit of magic. Weren’t you asking to join an exploration anyways?” 

Still desperate to convince Arthur, “Yeah, but not this one. You’re taking all of the best knights with you, won’t that be fine? And whose going to protect Gwen? Think of the ladies!” From the look on Arthur’s face, Merlin knew he wasn’t getting out of this.

“The land most likely will be attuned in someway with magic and who better than the Court Sorcerer to help asses its role in this new world,” This and when he had to make public appearances ranked on the top lists of when he hated his new job. “Honestly, I don’t see why you’re so against this.”

“Too many reasons, Arthur. I’d highly appreciate it if you just let me stay and do my job. Here. In Camelot. Not across the ocean.” Even as he strained for the last thread of his point, he knew it was useless. “This is your job, harvest season is rolling in nicely and we’re far from wartimes. You an put off your research until later.”

Knowing it would do him no good, he glared at the King anyways as he sighed. “… I’ll go pack then, but if I die or end up kidnapped, it’s on you.” His only answer was a roll of Arthur’s eyes and a lazy shooing motion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Unwanted Vacations (Or when Merlin was tempted to let the idiots that made up Camelot’s king and knights fend for themselves in Middle Earth)  
> Author: twIInGemIInII  
> Summary: Merlin thought he could at least keep this one not-so-small secret away from everyone; after all, it’s not like it would really ever become relevant to them in this lifetime, right? Yeah, about that…  
> Words: 1291

Merlin huffed and sighed as he stared out to the sea. His bad mood was not attributed to the sea, no, he liked the sea, (too much for his own good, perhaps) but it was a source of unease, not annoyance. 

No, he owed his problem to his king, and his ridiculous idea that he just had to go to this newly discovered land personally, and more so, he just had to drag his Court Warlock with him. 

Merlin glanced towards Arthur and heaved another long, purposeful sigh. When he didn’t respond, out came another sigh. And another, and one more to follow that. 

Arthur snapped around, glaring daggers at the former manservant. Though, sometimes Merlin wondered if he preferred being a dogs-boy to being called on every five seconds for the most trivial of matters, some not even related to magic in the least bit (he got called once for farming advice for some reason.)

“What?” Merlin stared straight ahead and sighed. Arthur’s face contorted into some frightful creature from the underworld who just realized that he had run out of coffee on a Monday morning. ”Merlin.”

The man just sighed again, this time with a grin that made the underworld creature want to throw a cup at him. And maybe light him on fire while he was at it. However, both the king and his warlock were currently on a very combustible, wooden, boat so he settled for glaring. “Shut up.”

“But, I said nothing.” Arthur’s expression turned to one of exasperation. “Are you still moaning about having to listen to your elders.” 

Merlin thought to himself how that made absolutely no sense at all. He wanted to remark how Arthur was only 29, and thus in terms of physical maturity and the human perception of adulthood, was approximately one year older than Merlin himself. Instead he put on an expression of false innocence and said, “Should I conduct a physical examination, sire? I’m quite sure I have said nothing, yet you are convinced that I have been going on this entire time.”

This time, the underworld creature settled for throwing whatever was closest to him.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Arthur and Merlin bickered for hours on the deck, much to the amusement of the other passengers. They cannot be blamed for who wouldn’t find their king being insulted and shown up at every turn in a verbal match? Well, if it were an enemy they would be at the man’s throat with swords drawn, but this was Merlin.

Banter between the friends was always light-hearted and fast-paced; a welcome distraction from the vast, endless majesty of the somewhat repetitive and mildly dull sea. After all, all waves appear exactly the same. 

However childish the royal knights were, there was still matters to attend to. “Princess! Don’t you ever get tired of being insulted?” Gwaine sauntered towards the pair.

Realizing that he was being surrounded from both sides, Arthur went on the defensive. “Evidently not as I haven’t seen you exiled yet.” 

“No, indeed,” Gwaine raised his hands in a mockery of false surrender, “Your father did that for you, but I’m impossible to resist.” Merlin smiled widely at Arthur’s ever-growing irritation. 

“Let’s give poor Arthur a break, Gwaine. Respect for the king, right?” Arthur at this point was finally done. Pushing Merlin aside as roughly as he could without actually injuring the skinnier man, he walked of muttering about inventory and double-checking maps.

His two tormenters stood, politely waiting for him to leave before bursting out laughing. 

“How about you, Merlin? You excited for the great unknown?” In response, the man only groaned and turned to look at the sea. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Maybe we’ll discover an island along the way there.”

Merlin started mumbling under his breath. At Gwaine’s non-verbal prompting (a raised eyebrow that couldn’t ever hope to match with Gaius’s) “I had things to do back at home that were time sensitive. And quite frankly, when I said I wanted to go on a n expedition, I didn’t mean one so bloody far that we need an entire boat of supplies for a dozen men!”

In truth, Merlin would actually prefer the expedition to take a fleet, but he didn’t tell the knight that. “It’s not like you to be this grumpy over knowledge.” He embellished the word knowledge with a dramatic wave of his hands.

“Well, I left ‘knowledge’ behind me to come on a bloody cruise to where we’ll probably all die in unknown woods,” He didn’t even want to think about that, “I mean whose brilliant idea was it to drag some of the most important members of the court to explore some far off place we’ve never heard of?”

“That would be Princess.” Seeing Merlin respond apathetically to his joke, Gwaine went back to trying to persuade his friend that this trip was a good idea. “Come on, are you afraid of the savage language.” The glare that Merlin threw him effectively shut him up. 

“Okay, no referring to them as savages, got it.” Gwaine took a moment to really look at the Warlock. merlin seemed agitated, worried almost, for some reason; which, of course, made no sense. He had faced far worse things without fear. Hell, he had throw himself into the path of a Dorocha. yet, now he looked like a newly wedded husband whose mother-in-law was visiting for a month. Behind all his worry, however, Merlin did seem excited. For what, though, Gwaine could not tell.

“Alright, maybe you’ll change your mind when we get there.” Merlin turned towards him. “And when would that be?” Gwaine looked towards the sea, pretending to be in deep thought. “A month or so,” He looked back at his friend. “Never mind, we’ll see if we can change your mind during the trip, it seems.”

Merlin snorted and shook his head. “Highly unlikely, but you’re welcome to try.” 

“Don’t be like that! We’ll see who’s more stubborn, won’t we?” Gwaine beamed at him, walking away (probably to see if Arthur had discovered his stash of mead in the brig.)

Once the knight was gone, Merlin returned to his brooding and watched the hypnotizing lull of the waves until he was called upon many hours later.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The waves were surprisingly calm for this time of year. To be fair, they were taking a route that was, for all practical purposes, utterly unknown. This unnatural peace did not sit well with the captain one bit. 

Amherst Malin had become the family disappointment when he left to sail the seas 37 years ago. Since then, he had become intimate with the ocean on a level. He knew how to read the winds and listen to the gulls’ cries. He knew the waters better than he knew his own heart (which was currently very confused, but this is a side character that will only pop up a few times so we’ll not expand on that) and here was something that was completely new. 

Tell tale signs of a storm brought a calm, the sky was almost completely empty save for birds he’d never seen before on any of his journeys and it was more than a little unsettling. If you gave a inland farmer a ten minute lesson on how to turn a wheel, you’d have the equivalence of what he could do. Granted he had slightly better instincts and a faster reaction time, his experience was useless here. 

There is calm before the storm. Staring out at the endless blue sky, he could only hope that it was not a prophecy of worse things to come. Two second away from an exact minute after he thought those horribly cliché words, the boat shuddered as it hit land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> To be honest, these chapters are gonna be pretty damn short as I’m starting boarding school soon and my every waking second will be occupied with school. Literally. Every. Second. Also I know myself well enough, I’m too lazy to extend this thing more than a semester or two, let alone the entire school year.


	3. Chapter  Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Merlin will laugh and call his King "prat" in an affectionate tone, with connotations of years spent together with a friendship that few could ever hope to have with another person. This is not one of those times.

I don’t remember if I had Lancelot alive or not in this story. I really like him, but I think I’m going to keep him dead. I thought about writing him into it as a flesh and blood vessel with the proper soul still bound instead of a puppet, but well, have you ever tried to write one of those “characters read/watch the story/show?” There’s basically just too many characters going back and forth and its awkward and annoying for everyone so I’m keeping the characters on the down low. Especially since they’re moving as a group, unless Arthur has the brilliant idea to split up or something but he’s not an idiot when it comes to battle strategy so we’re going to be with the same characters a lot.

Gaius had recently thought up of a theory, anything that can go wrong will go wrong. If it doesn’t, then there was no chance of it ever happening in the first place. This, readers, is what is now known as Murphy’s Law. Basically, all the steps that have been preordained by destiny and the flow of time has only, exactly one outcome. If Merlin bothered to remember this little pet theory of his uncle’s (that he would drop later and forget about) he would’ve avoided a month or two’s worth of trouble, for everyone in his company. He did not have something to blame, so he pent up his agitation and became very twitchy. When he became twitchy, he became rather prone to snap at people, especially when he was having a bad day, such as this one.

Percival noticed rather quickly. Merlin had seemed… off on the boat, so to say. However Merlin perpetually looked off, generally for good reason, so he kept an eye out when the former manservant got into those moods. One time when a herd of werewolves decided it would be great to attack the Camelot hunting party, merlin had gotten rather annoyed roughly thirty minutes prior. The fight had been short-lived as wolves are apparently not strong enough to survive a fully readied band of armed knights. The large man just supposed it was one of Merlin’s odd quirks.

When the wood of the boat slammed into sand, sending everyone onboard hurtling across the deck, Merlin looked as if someone just told him that legal magic was a joke and he was being sent to execution. 

The first thing: he was constantly moving. This was normal, but instead of his mouth, his eyes flicked back and forth, hands seemed to have a mind of their own and the knight was pretty sure that if Merlin had been riding a horse, he would’ve confused the hell out of it with his perpetual foot twitching. How he was managing to do it when walking was an impressive feat. 

Merlin was also unusually quiet. For once, he made no sound. It made no sense to Percival. Merlin had always been a confident man, in both his own strengths and Arthur’s ability to fight and always find some form of magical trouble. Their traveling party consisted of Camelot’s finest knights, her King and, oh yeah, the most powerful warlock that ever was and ever will be. There wasn’t really much that could wipe them out. Still, said warlock remained as silent as Percival himself usually was.

As usual, he kept silent and observed. His subject was doing the same thing to their surroundings. Where were they even going? Honestly, it was a completely new land and he was almost positive that Elyon, bless him, could not be trusted to plot a map as they travelled. Instead of moaning and groaning to annoy Arthur as he usually did, he watched the trees. 

The absolute last thing he wanted to do was get caught by surprise by some roving patrol. It was unlikely as they had barely left the shores, however, it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Most people and creatures had far better sense than humans. After his many years of meeting up with said magical creatures (usually in unpleasant situations) he had realized this quickly. In an effort to minimize noise and thus presence, he, for once, shut up.

“Remind me why we crashed into a sand embankment when there was a pier right there?” Nobody beside Percival seemed to really care, but the large knight was usually silent, so it appeared that no one really cared to remain hidden.

“Give the captain a break, no one expected it to be so close. HELLO!” In fact, it seemed that Arthur was dead set on doing quite the opposite. 

To try to convey to be quiet without making noise, Merlin tried grumbling and making hand gestures. What ended up happening was muffled noises and the appearance of going into shock having a seizure. Arthur either ignored him or was too busy shouting for people to meet them to notice. Gwaine was making sure the King didn’t ever get a break and ribbing him on while Elyon tried desperately to record their path, his face in a twisted expression, looking a mixture of horror and sheer terror. 

Percival gave him a sidelong, sympathetic glance. Sighing to himself, Merlin nodded thanks to his observer and tried louder grumbling noises and even wilder gestures, now looking like one possessed. Catching a glance from Percival that clearly told him he looked insane, he gave up that line of action. 

Hesitantly, he whistled. It was soft, and low pitched, like someone was starting a funeral march with an all-flute band. “HELLO?” The soft note didn’t even register to the screaming king, rather undignified if you asked Merlin.

The next note was slightly louder, still keeping it low pitched. “Arthur, did you go past the big tree or the smaller five yards back?” Elyan spoke this time, also muffling Merlin’s signal.

Looking annoyed he looked towards the only knight whose attention he had for help. Percival just shrugged, also unsure of what to do. “Arthur!” Merlin went for a hushed whisper.

“Who do you think built the pier? It was rather well made, pretty advanced civilization here, don’t you think.” In addition to the stress of being forced to go to this new land where Arthur would definitely find some way to get all the locals pissed off and arriving months ahead of time, Gwaine’s interruption was making Merlin see red. Sucking in his breath, he threw caution to the wind, praying that anyone -passing by would think it was a bird, let out the shrillest whistle he could muster that was on the human hearing range. 

All head snapped around to the impatient man, well, Percival only sighed. “I was wondering why you were being to silent, Merlin!” The glare Merlin sent towards Gwaine’s direction would’ve terrified anyone who didn’t know him, and even then.

“We were wondering that as well,” Well, this day just better and better. A group of humanoid, figures with some impressive ear size, walked out of shadows, almost as if appearing out of nowhere, an impressive feat considering they were quite literally glowing. With weapons drawn, they spread out evenly, surrounding the group of knights. Merlin motioned for them to keep their “It seems that you, and you alone were trying to be cautious, yet, the man over there,” He turned towards Arthur, who flinched, “Was doing his best to summon all of Middle Earth.”

Wincing, Merlin spread his arms out, palms faced upwards and hand set low. “It’s usually best to be cautious when you have no idea what you’re dealing with.” One perfectly shaped eyebrow arched at the movement. 

“It seems that you have some idea, as your friend put it,” The elf’’s bow was still point towards The group, but he moved it to aim at Gwaine. “pretty advanced civilization, as he put it, I believe?” Merlin was murdering Gwaine later. “

“In my experience, advanced does not mean peaceful,” Why was he handling these negotiations? Wasn’t Arthur the King? “and unfortunately, I’m the brains of this group.”

The archer in front of him acquiesced with a subtle head motion. How did he ever communicate with people? Did he use some weird form of head-sign-language? Was he born with a condition or was he just one of those pompous war leaders who believe themselves above using actual words? “And their roles are?”

Stepping back into the confused group of human, he swept his arm around him. “I am Merlin Ambrosius, Court Warlock. These are Sir Gwaine, the Green Knight,Sir Elyon the White Knight and Sir Percival; knights of Camelot and of the Round Table, founded by King Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon.” He bowed his head to acknowledge he was done. If he had to keep up this formal charade any longer, he was going to be done with this continent.

“If he is your king, then why are you the diplomat?” There was something hidden in his voice, it made Merlin worry.

“When it comes to the unknown, I take care of matters. My lord has a terrible habit of getting in trouble with and angering magical beings,” Arthur glared at his back and his warlock bit back a grin, “So forgive me if I speak with you in his stead.” 

The elf’s eyebrows furrowed before he whispered something in another language to his companions. Looking back and forth between the other elves and Merlin. Finally, slowly, he lowered his bow. The side of his mouth twitched upwards. That was it! He had been laughing at them, but was too disciplined to show it to possible enemies, not they weren’t still possible enemies.

“All is well, however, I would like to hear your intents from your King, himself.” Merlin nodded and stepped aside, his fears of immediate death were gone, but he wasn’t looking forward to meeting their leader.

“We only seek to explore new lands and find new civilizations. Our kingdom went through a dark time, and we have settled down at last, allowing us to finally expand and explore what is beyond the land within our borders. We could learn much from each other, if given the chance. It would do us both benefit if we could meet with your king.”

“We have no king, we are ruled by the Elven Lords Elrohir and Elladan, sons of Elrond. However, you would have to spend at least a year here to secure treaties with all kingdoms within Middle Earth. For, numerous are the individual cities and kingdoms, and that is what we know of and consider “civilized,” Arthur sighed, things were never easy for them, were they? “We shall take you to our city for now, and have you plan your course of action. Rivendell will always pride itself as a home for wayward travelers and a covering of protection for the weary.”

When this was all over, Merlin was going to yell at Arthur until he went mute and his king, deaf.


	4. Chapter 4

     Merlin was uncharacteristically silent as they walked over the forest floor, not only vocally, but he seemed to glide over the forest floor; it was almost as if he was intent on giving Arthur the silent treatment. Screaming at your king for his idiocy in front of foreign dignitaries of another continent and race was usually frowned upon in most societies. Arthur had picked up on this, and was on some level impressed with how well the (usually) clumsy man traversed over this new turf. Mostly, he was somewhat annoyed that he couldn’t call him out on this childish display. Whining about your warlock’s cold shoulder treatment in front of foreign dignitaries of another continent and race was also frowned upon in most societies.

     The knights, in a general consensus had long ago decided not to interfere with their spats, as nothing good would come from them. It was easier to try to keep up whatever task was at hand, if not they’d be waiting quite a while. (If it were to come down to it, however, they would all back up Merlin. He was almost always right, anyways.)

     “Tell me, kind sirs, what is the name of this continent?” Lancelot, the ever diplomat inquired to their guides, hoping they were the conversationalists. From the side eye he received, he took it they would rather not speak, still he could only try. Or else, be forced to watch the painful tension between his King and friend for several hours on end, “Are names sacred here then?”

     Still no response, “Is the forest sacred? Should we be mute within it’s confines,” He wished he would shut up, or someone would shut him up for him, yet Merlin was still steadfastly refusing to speak out of ire and Arthur, though king, would only do worse than him.  
“Please, I implore you, give us a name for this land, we seek only knowledge.” His words sounded a tad too formal to be completely genuine, mostly because he cared very little about the actual name, he just really wanted some form of noise beyond the knight’s footfalls (as neither these creatures nor Merlin seemed to make no noise.)

     He stared at the back of the patrol leader’s head, hoping some form of response would come, “Middle Earth, Arda, whichever you prefer.” It was not hte man he had been staring at who spoke, but another from the branches. Still, he was glad for the interaction, if only to reassure himself that their captors (guides?) did not pose an immediate threat, or just not having to listen to the angry silence that Merlin seemed to be projecting  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

     Merlin really wished no one would talk, even to him, the phrase “kind sirs” rang hollow and awkward; and this was a man who called the Crown Prince of his kingdom of residence an ass the day he arrived. Lancelot meant well, trying to figure out taboos first hand, yet he seemed very out of place. If a forest was sacred, why on Earth would anyone aware carry weapons into “it’s confines”? The temptation to speak, however was thrown out as he caught Arthur pouting at him; he refused to give in, he deserved it for bringing down a bloody patrol of all things down on their heads as they illegally trespassed on their entire continent.

     “Please, I implore you, give us a name for this land, we seek only knowledge.” Sometimes, Lancelot bordered on too respectful. Few people used the word implore anymore, and it was obvious that they wanted more than just knowledge out of this land. Who would travel the seas for weeks (in theory) just to read in a library? (Probably Geoffrey)

     Yet, the knight refused to give up, even as Gwaine shot him a glance, telling him to just give up already. Only, now, he seemed to have resorted to shooting puppy dog eyes at the patrol leader’s head. Well, the back of his head, which had no eyes to see.

     A soft sigh, from a female elf following with a bow in the trees seemed to have inadvertently caught the tail end of Lancelot’s unwavering stare. She took pity on him and spared him from speaking out further, “Middle Earth, or Arda, whichever you prefer.” Merlin still questioned the wisdom of this entire venture. From the patrol leader’s almost-too-quick glare at the elf, it seems they were not supposed to speak, and so they did not from the rest of the journey.  
_______________________________________________________________________

     Thankfully the painful silence was blessedly short, as was the walk. After an hour or so, the trees began parting to show a worn dusty road, leading to a tall bridge, far surpassing another Albion ever had. It stretched towards the sky, marble spires jutting out of the middle. Veering away from the magnificent structure, they turned towards a city of sorts.

     It was obviously far less dense than Camelot, with far more trees and rivers than stone and dirt. Despite its glory, Arthur couldn’t help but be perturbed by the distinct lack of people in the streets. Although there were not that many homes, there were still plenty enough to crowd the paths. Instead, the only true living presence, as far as he could tell was the guards, posted at every gateway and bridge. The swords and spears seemed out of place in the peaceful city, he wasn’t sure why, they had been escorted after all, by a squadron of heavily armed warriors. A hand on Excalibur and Merlin on his side (though currently ignoring him) provided him enough security to set him at ease.

     Merlin felt something akin to homesickness at the sight of the city. The lack of stone all around was relaxing, as much as he loved Camelot, he wished Arthur would plant some tress or something, surely it could not take that much effort. Perhaps, when he decided to speak to him again, he would suggest it. Most likely, he’d just plant them himself and Arthur would throw something at him head for it later. Still, the lack of actual sound beyond Camelot’s knight’s footfalls and the river. A place such as this should have birdsong, wind, and song, not the heavy silence that blanketed the city, smothering the sense of peace it should’ve brought.

     As they drew near a large house, Merlin spotted signs of life, at last. A tall, blonde elf stood between two guards, visibly unarmed and dressed well. Still, Merlin got the sense the elf could take down half of their number with him hands before he went down.

     The elf bowed his head, genially, “Forgive us, and our lack of hospitality. I’m afraid we’ve been in mourning for some time,“ They always seemed to arrive at the worst times, "I am Lord Glorfindel, I have been asked to escort you.“

     Merlin bowed his head in return and followed first, Arthur and the knights trailing behind, on guard. Merlin really wished they would calm down; the elves were very much aware of their uneasiness and in return, were at attention. You would think, that after a lifetime of diplomacy, the king would learn basic courtesies. Besides Lancelot’s awkward attempts at socializing, no such luck. Merlin took the initiative. The building, under any other circumstances would feel like home, what with the roaring fires, open ceilings and walls, yet meeting Elven Lords who were likely to have them imprisoned for trespass was not reassuring. Nor were the towering doors that seemed to be locked shut, or at least too heavy for one person to open alone (maybe thats what the guards were for?)

     Still, he appeared at ease as he arrived before the most ornate doors in the house, in contrast to his entourage, both men and elves.  
“Welcome to the library of the Last Homely House.” Glorfindel sidestepped out of the way as two armed guards slowly pushed the creaking doors open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure i might as well aim for 1000+ words per chapter bc thats a nice easy pace.

**Author's Note:**

> AN:
> 
> There are not nearly enough Merlin and LOTR crossovers. They mesh together so well its surprising there’s so few so here’s a fic I’ve been meaning to write for a while. Fair warning, I might not finish it as the only fic I’ve ever finished was a 28 chaptered Naruto OC story when I was 11. A chapter was like 300 words when I really didn’t want to do any homework and 100 when I got a comment asking me to update. Yeah, so if I don’t update for a long time either I’ve abandoned it or I’ll write something half a year later and include a three-page apology with it. (Also this prologue has foreshadowing I didn’t actually mean to do but ended up doing it anyways so have fun with that)


End file.
